


The Winds of Change

by Pasikoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-02-27 04:17:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2678801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pasikoo/pseuds/Pasikoo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a normal day at Hogwarts. But not the one most people know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Winds of Change

THE WINDS OF CHANGE  
A counterfactual story of Hogwarts

  


“Aunt Petunia, what is it like to have a sister?” Harry asked one day while he was doing his homework during a skip hour in aunt Petunia’s office on the third floor of the Hogwarts castle. Aunt Petunia raised her gaze from the form she had been filling out.

“What a strange question to ask, Harry”, said aunt Petunia, smiling. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” Harry said, a bit unsure how to start. “It just occurred to me… when we visited the Burrow during Easter. What it would be like to have a brother… or a sister in Hogwarts with me. Just like with the Weasleys. Just like you and… you know.”

Almost involuntarily Harry found himself glancing at aunt Petunia’s desk. On the desk there was a series of framed photographs, lined in a neat row. There were pictures of Harry there, naturally, but many others as well.

All of the pictures were moving, as pictures in the wizarding world did. Last in the row, closest to aunt Petunia, there was a picture Harry had looked over and over again during his childhood.

The black and white photograph featured two girls, looking slightly older than Harry was now. Other one was very pretty, with long auburn hair. Her almond-shaped, bright eyes – green, Harry knew – looked straight at him from the photograph, beaming.

The other girl was taller, and more plain-looking. She had short blond hair, long neck and prominent nose. She too was smiling, even laughing, and had her hand on the other girl’s waist. Both of them were waving at the camera, looking happy.

In the background Harry could see the lake and even farther away the familiar shape of the Hogwarts castle. Harry knew the two girls in the picture were aunt Petunia, and her sister Lily, his mother. 

Aunt Petunia looked at Harry.

“Well, first of all I’d say you have lots of siblings in Hogwarts with you, Harry. Just think of Ron… or Hermione… or the rest of the Weasleys. Ginny has always looked up to you as an older brother.”

“Yes, I know, I know” said Harry. “But it’s still not the same, is it? I mean, I’ve wondered what is it like… to have a real… you know, biological sister or a brother?”

Aunt Petunia didn’t say anything, merely looked at the photo on her desk. She pursed her lips in a way that always made her face look a bit like that of a horse. Then he looked at Harry and smiled.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s not the same”, she said finally and lay the quill in her hand on the table. “Well, siblings fight as well. I don’t know if this comes as a surprise to you, but there’s no law, or a must for siblings to get along. You’ve seen it with Ron and his brothers, I suspect. From what I’ve seen, you, Ron and Hermione come along much better than Ron and any of the Weasley children.”

Harry nodded. He knew it all too well. How hard the first year had been to Ron, for example. He liked the Weasley twins all right, but wasn’t all that sure how much he would have liked them if they had been his brothers. If he had grown up in their shadow – or that of Percy’s, or Bill’s or Charlie’s, for that matter. 

“Well, it was same thing with me and Lily”, said aunt Petunia. “We didn’t always see eye to eye, and we argued as well, from time to time. Although, I think, not as much the Weasley children do. Then again, we had things to bind us together. All in all, I regard myself very fortunate having her as a sister… as long as I did.”

After saying that aunt Petunia corrected a bit the position of the picture with her and Lily in it, and whisked away an imaginary bit of dust off the picture’s frame.

“Especially when one considers how close it was we didn’t have even that short time together”, said aunt Petunia after a pause.

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, lifting his gaze from his notes.

Aunt Petunia looked at Harry, looking a bit surprised.

“Goodness, I haven’t told you that story, have I?” she said then, still partly lost in her own thoughts.

“What story?” Harry said, a bit puzzled now.

Aunt Petunia looked at Harry again and there was a contemplating look on her long face, as if she was pondering how to put into words what she wanted to say.

“I suppose”, aunt Petunia said. “You do know your mother and I knew Severus even before we came to Hogwarts?”

Harry nodded. It was part of the family history after all, albeit a bit disturbing part of it.

“Well, it just happened Severus was the one who told your mother and me about the wizarding world, and of Hogwarts”, said aunt Petunia. “We were very close as sisters, and played mostly together. But after we met Severus it was like this… awful, awful boy had came into our life and had stolen my sister from me. I was furious at him… and at her. Because of the fairy tales he kept telling my sister, and because she believed it all.

Harry smiled, knowing very well what the “fairy tales” aunt Petunia mentioned were. Still, he could only imagine what it must have felt like, for a muggle child, to hear of the wizarding world, or of the Hogwarts, for the first time.

“Yes, yes, I know. It was true, all of it”, said aunt Petunia, noticing the expression on Harry’s face. “At first I didn’t believe a word of it, but after a while I had to. That it was all true. It made me even more furious. It was like Lily and Severus now had this… secret club I wasn’t allowed to.”

Aunt Petunia kept silent for a few moments.

“I still remember the letter I wrote to professor Dumbledore”, she said after a while. “After I had found out Lily had gotten the owl, so to speak, and was to enrol at Hogwarts. It was full of grovelling and begging. Oh, I was so jealous of Lily and Severus. I wanted to be at Hogwarts too.”

”So… What happened?” Harry asked and laid aside the piece of parchment he had been writing his essay on.

“Well, Dumbledore answered”, aunt Petunia said. “Very politely, but firmly, and explained why it was quite impossible for me to study at Hogwarts. Not only I was two years past the normal age, Hogwarts was a school of witchcraft and wizardry, and no one without the gift was allowed there.”

“However, I was adamant and wrote him again”, she continued. Then a guilty smile appeared on her face. “And again. I don’t remember how many letters I wrote, not anymore. I was simply too jealous, angry and full of child’s determination, to let go. Our parents were so proud of Lily, of having a witch in the family. That made me feel even more furious, not to mention abandoned.”

”Finally, impressed by my persistence, it seems, Dumbledore gave in and came to visit our house, quite unexpectedly, one Saturday night. My parents already knew about wizards and witches, of course. But I suppose they were still rather intimidated of him, appearing on our doorstep in his green robes. I remember my father even scoffing me, after it was revealed how I had been pestering Dumbledore with my letters.” 

“What happened?” Harry asked.

”Dumbledore told them to be at ease and said there was nothing to worry about. He was there simply to see whether indeed I was without the wizarding gift. Or perhaps not.”

Aunt Petunia looked out of the window of her office, to the greyish-blue sky. She glanced at the formidable form of the Headmaster’s tower, barely visible from where she was sitting. Then she looked back at Harry, who was clearly anxious to hear more of the story, and smiled. 

“Well, together we aperated to Hogwarts, straight to his office”, she continued and shrugged. “After all, even though I was regarded as a muggle, I knew of wizards, so there was really no harm done. Besides, if it indeed had turned out I had no gift at all, I gather he would have had a way to purge my memory of the visit.”

”I remember how amazed, even horrified I was, looking at all the strange instruments there, and Fawkes, sitting on its perch. Sure enough, I had known Hogwarts was a school of wizardry, had spent hours and hours making pleas to be allowed in, but seeing it all – especially the portraits of previous headmasters on the wall, peering at me suspiciously, and whispering to each other – was whole another thing entirely.”

Harry remembered his first visit to the headmaster’s office, and how amazed he had been. And that was when he already had been a student in Hogwarts. Harry could only imagine what the impact office must have had to a muggle girl.

“So, what happened?”

”We talked… ages it seemed” said aunt Petunia. “He used several of his strange instruments, even the pensieve on me. Together we went through my memories, and searched for possible traces of me expressing the wizarding gift. It was strange. Really, really strange.”

Harry heard a faint sound and looked to see its source. Mrs. Norris rose from the wicker basket it had been sleeping in. It stretched itself, paws on the floor, body arched and the tail pointing straight up. Then it seemed to notice Harry and walked up to him. It pushed her head to Harry’s side and dutifully Harry started to scratch the cat behind the ears. 

The cat had been property of Hogwarts’ previous caretaker and had been one of the things aunt Petunia had inherited from her predecessor. To Harry, it seemed, Mrs. Norris had been there as long as aunt Petunia had. Aunt Petunia looked at the two of them and smiled again.

”Well, finally professor Dumbledore said that there indeed was a faint trace of talent in me”, continued aunt Petunia her tale. “A faint spark, if you want. A spark that could be, if treated with care, to be kindled. But which could very easily be snuffed as well.”

”Professor Dumbledore said that usually no one with as faint talent as mine was allowed to Hogwarts. Many might have regarded me as a muggle. Even muggle born wizards and those not of “pure blood”, he said, were considered less than equal, by some in the wizarding world.”

“It wouldn’t be easy, he said. I’d have to face prejudice and also my education would demand much more of me than it does of an ordinary student. Was I really sure I wanted that, he asked. Living a muggle life would be much easier route for me to take.”

”I remember that at this point especially Phineas Nigellus objected to the idea, and seemed to think me as a muggle, pure and simple. Well, I didn’t care. I said that I was willing to take the hard way. Oh, I was a stupid, silly girl who had no idea what I was talking about, what I could and couldn’t do. Children are like that, and I had always thought rather big of myself.” 

“I don’t know why he took me in, not really. I’ve wondered it many times over the years. Why was he ready to make such an exception in my case? Maybe… I don’t know… Maybe he saw something in store for me, even back then, a part in the bigger picture, one could say.” 

Mrs. Norris meowed demandingly. Harry looked down and saw the white and brown cat peering up at him, its head a bit tilted. Harry made room for the cat by moving his school books and parchments aside, and quickly it leapt to his lap. Harry stroked the cat and heard it starting to purr.

“Well, professor Dumbledore was right, of course”, aunt Petunia continued. “It wasn’t easy, believe me. The amount of lessons I had to take, and the extra tutoring, simply to pass most courses, was staggering. Of course it wasn’t all bad. The study of anicient runes I liked, as well as arithmancy. There was certain… logic in them. Herbology, even care of the magical creatures weren’t that bad either.” 

“But charms or transfiguration… Oh, you should have seen me, Harry. I must have been the worst student in the history of Hogwarts. And although I liked potions, I was never Slug Club material, like your mother. I had to be glad if professor Slughorn even got my surname right. Professor McGonagall, on the other hand, was all right. Most likely she saw something in me, even back then. Even, I daresay, a glimpse of herself. I was a very, very headstrong child.”

As aunt Petunia said that a faint glimmer of smile rose to her lips, but it soon disappeared, as she continued.

“And just like professor Dumbledore had suspected, there was also prejudice against me. In fact, prejudice is rather nice word for what I faced at the school. Hate and loathing would be more accurate terms.”

“Lucius Malfoy was as much the arrogant, fair-haired bastard as his son is, and saw to it that my seven years at Hogwarts were as tormenting as possible. According to him, it seemed, I had no right to be at Hogwarts, and he made very clear I knew it as well. I know you’ve had hard time with Draco, but believe me, it’s nothing compared to what I had to put with his father.”

Harry continued scratching Mrs. Norris behind the ears. He didn’t say anything, but it seemed it was clear to aunt Petunia he had understood. They had had it tough, both of them, in their own way.

“I could very well have become bitter”, aunt Petunia said and sighed. “But thank God Lily was there. She was there for me, always. She was brilliant, of course, and helped me to pass various courses. On the other hand, being two years older than your mother, I was able to protect her. I was, after all, as big as a third grader when we started. That seemed to be enough to fend off some of the older students. Hogwarts wasn’t easy place, even then.”

Aunt Petunia looked at the photograph on her desk and smiled.

“Lily and I made a good team. We were almost inseparable. The Evans sisters, they would say. We did our homework together, went to quidditch matches together and visited Hogsmead together. One could say we did everything together, right up until James showed up. Just like there was Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, there was Evans and Evans.”

“Severus, on the other hand, was bad news, even back then. I had seen it the first time I had laid my eyes on him, and I was right, like we later on found out. I told Lily that over and over, but your mother was like that. She wanted to see good in everyone, a feature, I think, you have inherited from her.”

“Still, even after the graduation, everyone knew, I included, that I wouldn’t be able to find my place in the wizarding world, out there, not really. My O.W.L. grades weren’t that good and I had no false hopes passing N.E.W.T. examinations had I taken them. I remember – as I was sailing with all the other graduates in the boats over the lake back to Hogsmead – it felt I was leaving my whole life behind me.”

“For a few years I managed to make ends meet, somehow. I got odd jobs, working as a temp at the ministry for example. I remember that professor Dumbledore pulled some strings on that occasion as well. I got myself a small house at Godrick’s Hollow, near where James and Lily lived. They got married, you were born, and everything seemed perfect. When I finally got the owl from professor Dumbledore, with him offering me a permanent job, it seemed almost too good to be true.”

Harry knew that part of the story beforehand. When Argus Filch – rest that horrible man’s soul in peace, aunt Petunia used to say – had finally been killed in that freak transfiguration accident, which got two Hogwarts students expelled, it was professor Dumbledore who had asked aunt Petunia to fill the position. 

Nowadays it was difficult to imagine Hogwarts without its caretaker Ms. Evans. Especially to professor McGonagall, it seemed, aunt Petunia was almost like a right hand. Aunt Petunia was the one who knew everything taking place in the corridors and dormitories of the Hogwarts castle.

Everyone knew the castle’s caretaker could hardly turn a cockroach into a butterfly, but nobody thought any less of her. And if they did, they soon regret that. The only exceptions perhaps being Draco Malfoy and his minions, for whom aunt Petunia was too tempting way to get at Harry.

Aunt Petunia’s office mirrored perfectly her position in the castle, as well as her character. Everything was always in perfect order there: the filing cabinets, folders containing students’ permanent records as well as the quills and scrolls on her desk. And heaven help the student who entered her office in muddy shoes.

It seemed something had brushed off to Harry as well. At least it was constant cause of amazement, as well as friendly teasing, for Harry’s classmates how neat his homework appeared, or how well organized his trunk was.

Harry had once asked his aunt why she hadn’t ever married, as had many other people as well. Despite her shortcomings when it came to wizardry, why hadn’t she created herself a life outside Hogwarts, had a family and a career? The answer was every time the same. Her life, career, family, love even, was Hogwarts.

Aunt Petunia seemed to have been lost in her thoughts as well. Then she raised her gaze from her desk, looking grim.

“Then everything became horrible.” 

As aunt Petunia uttered those words, Harry felt a coldness gripping his heart, for he knew what was about to come.

“I still remember clearly the night Hagrid appeared on my doorstep, you know, with that Sirius’ flying motorbike. Oh, that awful, awful night.”

Aunt Petunia shook her head and kept silent for a moment. Mrs. Norris, obviously not getting enough attention on Harry’s lap, leapt suddenly to the floor and walked to the other side of the room. It leapt effortlessly to the window sill and peered down at the yard.

“Well, naturally everybody had known what was going on”, aunt Petunia said, continuing her story. “Those were terrifying times for all of us in the wizarding world. Still, nothing could have prepared me for the news. What could have? In the middle of the night the doorbell rang and there he stood, holding back tears, the big man, cradling you in his arms, a small little bundle.” 

“I nearly died from the shock. It was so unfair. She and James were so happy, especially after Lily had managed to pound some sense into his arrogant head, or he had matured, maybe both.” 

“Hagrid had received an order from Dumbledore himself to bring you to me. I wondered then, and I’m wondering still, why he chose to let me have you. I was your closest relative, as well as your godmother, granted. But still, after what had happened, wouldn’t it be more sensible for someone else to have you? A wizarding family, perhaps? With power to protect you better than I could?”

“I even asked him that once. Why me? He evaded the question, the way he is so good at. I got the feeling that for some reason professor Dumbledore seemed to think it was important you stayed with me. Again, I can’t help but feeling that’s part of some bigger plan. Still, I’m glad I’ve had you all these years.”

Even though Aunt Petunia’s tale was now over, as it seemed, Harry didn’t say anything, for he had nothing to say. Instead he looked at his homework. It was an essay he was supposed to be writing for professor Binns on goblin rebellions. 

He continued, but it was hard to keep focused, especially after all aunt Petunia had said.

It seemed to Harry aunt Petunia had always been there. When Harry had fallen off the broomstick when he had been six. The time professor Lockhart had tried to heal his arm after that accident during Hagrid’s care of magical creatures lesson. Or after that disastrous first date with Cho. Aunt Petunia had known exactly the right things to say and, what is more important, the right things for Harry to say to Cho to mend the situation.

Inside aunt Petunia, it seemed, there was incredible amount of raw, untamed mother’s instinct, simply waiting to be unleashed. She was very protective of him, “a lioness in mousy disguise”, professor Dumbledore had once described her and chuckled. 

Sometimes having your aunt and guardian with you in the school was a bit troublesome. However, Harry didn’t mind. In fact, having someone like aunt Petunia on his side had come handy several times during the last four years. She had been the one unwavering thing during his trouble filled years at Hogwarts.

He and Cho had become a pair after their second, much more successful date. At first everything seemed to go as smoothly as one could hope. The first summer they were apart Hedwig and Cho’s owl flew tirelessly, night and day, back and forth, from Harry to Cho. The month Cho and her family had been visiting her grandparents – and great-grandparents, it seemed – in China had been the longest in Harry’s life.

But bit by bit, as their next school year had started, it became evident everything was not all right. The thing that had so completely ruined their first date, Hermione’s role in Harry’s life, started to strain Harry’s and Cho’s relationship. At first it had been like a small, sharp piece of stone lodged somewhere between them, a one they both tried so very hard to ignore. Over time it grew larger and larger, finally becoming a wedge, tearing Harry and Cho apart.

Hermione, as well as Ron, simply had too big a role in Harry’s life. With all the craziness happening, it was Cho that got too often left in the dark. Harry didn’t blame Cho, and understood why it became too much for her to bear. To be always in second place.

Harry looked at his half done essay. It didn’t look good. He had only half a parchment done and he hadn’t even covered Urg the Unclean’s part in the rebellions. Harry sighed, then looked the office around him, sighed again, and tried to continue the essay.

Aunt Petunia’s office had become almost Harry’s second home, even before he came to study in Hogwarts. He remembered playing with his toys on the floor when he got to visit aunt Petunia’s work place during summers. On those occasions Harry remembered aunt Petunia reading to him about Rabitty Babitty, or about the wizard’s hopping pot, or the children’s version of “Hogwarts: A History” over and over again.

Especially during the last couple of years her office had become a safe haven of sorts to Harry. Many times the Gryffindor common room was simply too noisy, and Harry had taken the habit to do his homework in the comfy armchairs of aunt Petunia’s office. Harry, and especially during the last year, also Hermione.

The amount of time they spent together hadn’t gone unnoticed by aunt Petunia. She smirked every time Harry and Hermione had rushed to their next lecture, or when she noticed the two of them sitting side by side in the crowd watching quidditch and cheering to Ron, holding hands.

Aunt Petunia knew, and Harry knew she knew. And aunt Petunia knew that Harry knew that she knew.

She even had teased him about it once. ”Oh, you Potter men”, aunt Petunia had said. “You have always fallen for the smart girls. The smart and the confident. It was the same thing with Lily and your father. I was there when he saw her first time. You should have seen the look in his yes.” 

“Auntiee…” Harry had moaned and had felt his ears warming up and turning red.

Still, it seemed Hermione had been there from the beginning. Even before he had laid his eyes on Cho for the first time. Before he even knew about her existence.

They had met in the train to Hogwarts, all three of them. Harry, Ron and Hermione. Harry still remembered it and his first day at Hogwarts as a student quite vividly. The Hogwarts Express, Ron, Hermione, Neville’s lost toad, the trip over the lake, and of course, the sorting. 

Sure, he had met most of the teachers beforehand. Professor McGonagall and Hagrid had the habit of dropping by for tea from time to time to aunt Petunia during summers, and were always welcomed. Even Hagrid was, despite the rock cakes he insisted bringing with him. Harry had played with his toys on the floor while the grown-ups had had tea, and he had showed them his five-year-old masterpieces he had made in the nearby wizarding kindergarten.

Aunt Petunia, as well as Hagrid had, however, kept very silent about many of the details concerning the studying at Hogwarts, or the initiation ceremony that took place the very first day, including the sorting. Had Harry known too much, Hagrid had explained to him few years ago, it might have influenced the sorting itself.

Harry had never told anyone what had happened during those few moments the hat had been on his head. Inside the darkness all he had been able to think was: ”Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin!”. The encounters he’d had with Draco Malfoy during his life, the latest of which at the Hogwarts Express, were still in fresh memory.

However, quite unexpectedly, the hat had pondered whether to place him into Gryffindor… of Hufflepuff. 

“You are just and loyal”, the hat had said. “True friend and hard-working. But brave at heart, daring and chivalrous, that you are as well. Two paths I see, for you to choose from. Another way is safer, the other is not.”

Harry hadn’t known what to think or what to say, so he had said nothing, only pondered in his head the things hat had said, and the two alternatives. Then, quite abruptly and without warning, the hat had shouted: “Gryffindor!” 

By that time Hermione had already been sorted to Gryffindor – which, Harry remembers now, had been a cause for delight for him – and a few moments later Ron had joined them as well. They had been a team from the day on and been through a lot during the last five years. Always the three of them. He, Ron and… Hermione. 

The fact he and Hermione finally ended up together was more or less natural. After Ron had gotten into the quidditch team in the beginning of the second year, and finally been made the captain, there was fewer and fewer chances of them all three to hang together. 

Ron “The King” Weasley. The quidditch hero, the most likely candidate for the next Head Boy, carrying on the Weasley Legacy... Harry wasn’t bitter, and was pleased to let Ron have the glory. After all, being “the boy who lived” was more than enough for him.

However, with Ron always at quidditch practice it meant that very often he and Hermione were left together in the Gryffindor common room, doing homework, reading or simply talking. During the last year he had realized how much he enjoyed simply talking to Hermione. Not going through the library and searching ancient spell books, looking for information on dangerous mythical creatures or gathering ingredients for polyjuice potion. Just… talking. 

There was something intimidating in Hermione, granted. She had this… bravado, the know-it-all attitude she projected outwards. Originally it had taken some time for Harry to get over, or rather, see behind it. To understand Hermione wasn’t nearly as tough as she let other people to understand. 

Mostly it was only a shell, armour she had built around her, Harry knew now. The armour had become an integral part of her personality over the years, a guard that was very hard for her to lower anymore. It still took Harry some doing for Hermione to let him through it. In some weird way the no-nonsense attitude was part Hermione’s charm.

Harry looked up. Mrs. Norris had meowed, still keeping the silent vigil at the window. It looked around, looking slightly bored and leapt to the floor. At aunt Petunia’s desk it meowed demandingly, and was soon lifted on her lap. Harry heard it to start purr again.

Harry had had his quidditch phase as well, naturally. In wizarding world it was hard to avoid it. Aunt Petunia had gotten Harry his first Cleansweep as a birthday present when he had been only four. Aunt Petunia had said she’d seen Harry on a broomstick when he had been just a toddler, and to her it had looked like Harry was a natural.

Harry guessed aunt Petunia had been right. It felt very natural. Being on a broomstick was one of the best things he knew, soaring through the sky without a single worry. It almost felt that when he left the ground, he left with it everything that had troubled him at the time. 

He had liked quidditch, still liked to watch it, even to have an occasional friendly match with the Weasley children during summers. He had played it with other wizarding families’ children from a very young age, and even been an enthusiastic Appelby Arrows supporter. The moving poster depicting the team’s legendary victory in 1932 still hung on Harry’s bedroom wall in Godrick’s Hollow.

However, by the age of eight his interest in the sport had already worn off and he’d never actually considered playing quidditch on a school level. After quidditch Harry had found broomracing and after that there had been agility quiddithc – a sport, as Harry had later on found out in muggle studies, seemed to be the wizarding world’s equivalent to figure skating, or perhaps to trial motorcycling – and gotten rather good at both. 

They had even considered with aunt Petunia whether Harry would have liked to compete for real in either one. Achieving the national level, however, a wizard in the nearby flying school had told them, demanded years of work and dedication, and, quite honestly, it had sounded all too much like work to Harry.

Still the time he had put in both had paid off, for the ability to fly fast and accurately had gotten quite handy during the last few years. Harry doubted whether he’d been able to get past that Hungarian Horntail in the triwizard tournament, for example, without all those hours on a broomstick.

At the beginning of his second year they had announced about quidditch trials and Ron hadn’t been able to talk anything but for two weeks. Harry, however, felt that he had already gotten the sport out of his system. 

Just as well, Harry had thought many times during the course of last four years. He had difficulties keeping up with the schoolwork as it was. He could only imagine how things would be like if he had quidditch to worry about as well. With all the craziness taking place during the last few years.

Also the route of his own future had occupied his thoughts a lot lately. Harry knew every parent figure he had in Hogwarts was keen of the idea Harry becoming an auror. He too had been into it, at first. The aurors were regarded extremely high in the wizarding community, after all. However, during the past year he had started to think there were lots of other worthwhile things one could do in the wizarding world, as well.

Often his thoughts went back to his third year, when Remus Lupin had been their defence of the dark arts teacher. During one semester, Harry thought, they had learned more of the subject than during all the previous years put together. The idea of becoming, not an auror but a teacher had started to appeal to him more and more as the time passed. Although he hadn’t dared to reveal the idea to no one, not even to aunt Petunia.

“Speaking of professor Dumbledore…” aunt Petunia said suddenly, as if time hadn’t been passed at all during the past few moments. “How are the lessons going?”

Harry raised his gaze from his essay, which was still far from finished, and looked at aunt Petunia. In his left hand, Harry realized, he was twiddling a Galleon coin, which he had dug out of his pocket without noticing it himself.

“What?” Harry said.

“The occlumancy lessons”, aunt Petunia said, looking a bit sterner now. “He is still giving them to you?”

“Oh, those…” Harry said, stuffing the coin back into his pocket. “Yes, aunt Petunia. Yes, he is.” 

“How are they going?”

“Well… Okay. I guess”, Harry said. Aunt Petunia looked at Harry and pursed her lips again.

“I’m glad he has expressed such an interest in you”, said aunt Petunia. “But still, sometimes I get these misgivings. I want you to be careful, Harry.” 

“Careful? Of what? Professor Dumbledore?” Harry said, puzzled.

“I know, I know”, aunt Petunia said and sighed. “He’s a great man, professor Dumbledore. Order of Merlin, First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Grand Sorcerer and so on and so on.”

“And true, I have a lot to thank him for. My whole life, really. But you are my son, and that man that man has his dark side, as well. He has plans in which you have a crucial role, mark my words. I would be more at ease if I knew what those plans were, but I fear I wouldn’t still like them.”

Harry didn’t know what to think. A dark side? Professor Dumbledore? What was aunt Petunia talking about? Mrs. Norris passed Harry’s chair, without him even noticing it and slid out of the door, now filled again with the sounds of students rushing past in the corridor. Aunt Petunia shook her head, obviously noticing the expression on Harry’s face.

“It’s nothing I can put into words, Harry”, she said. “It’s just this… feeling I have. Besides, the way wind is blowing, I fear I may not be here for you much longer. That awful Umbridge woman has me on list. Everyone knows that.” 

Harry could not help but to agree. When professor Umbridge had started to administer those “special detentions” of hers, aunt Petunia had stepped in. She had made it public and had informed the parents that a teacher at Hogwarts was openly torturing students. It had been a direct slap to Umbridge’s face. Rita Skeeter had gotten her sqoop, as well as The Squibbler, and everyone had been happy. Well, almost everyone.

The scandal had been a serious blow to the ministry. Dolores Umbridge was the ministry’s lapdog, and its plans to get a tighter grip of Hogwarts seemed to have suffered a setback after the incident. Professor Umbridge had evaded sacking, but on the other hand she could not touch aunt Petunia either, not just yet at least.

“She sees me as a threat, which she naturally should”, said aunt Petunia. “I suppose she would have liked to get me on her side, for I simply know too much about what goes inside the walls of Hogwarts. I suppose before the Squibbler incident she had had hopes of doing just so.”

The expression on aunt Petunia’s face tightened as she continued.

“She made numerous remarks to me in the beginning of the year”, aunt Petunia said, looking slightly disgusted. “About “the importance of authority”, and “keeping the discipline”. The toad. Too bad she decided to demonstrate her disciplinary power on the wrong target. Now she knows I’m her enemy. After Hagrid and Trewlaney it will be my turn, mark my words.”

Harry felt he should have said something. True, nobody liked the current situation: the inquisitorial squad, the ongoing power struggle in the school, or the ministry living in denial when it came to lord Voldemort’s return.

Suddenly something occured to Harry and he looked at his watch. 

“Oh, sod!” he said, stood up and started to throw books and quills back into his back bag. “I’m late for class!”

Aunt Petunia looked at the clock on the wall and realized Harry was correct. The clock’s hand with Harry’s name on it pointed straight at the part of the dial it so often did, namely “late for class”.

“You better hurry then”, she said. “What’s the subject?”

Harry looked exasperated and groaned. “Divination.”

“Oh dear”, aunt Petunia said and looked sympatethical. “Still, you better hurry.” 

After Harry had rushed away and slammed the door behind him, Petunia Evans put her quill down and picked up the photograph on her desk. Her fingers traced the form of her sister, waving at her behind the glass.

“I hope you’d be here, Lily”, she said. “You’d be much better at protecting him. He’s so very much like you and James, and I fear for him. I cannot see what’s going to happen. You were always much better at that as well, Lily.”

Then she put the picture back in the row and continued working again. Time would tell, as it always did.

  


_Dedicated to my own Hermione._


End file.
